


curiosity killed the cat...

by macaroni_rascal



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macaroni_rascal/pseuds/macaroni_rascal
Summary: ...but satisfaction brought her backBasically, Ginny is curious about Mike's glass walls and Mike sets about making sure she's completely illuminated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bless the bawson fandom and all of their beautiful trashy fangirling! <3
> 
> Playlist for my smut writing: Rocket and Blow by Beyoncé on repeat.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Have you ever had sex against the wall?"

They are on his couch, Ginny's feet propped in his lap, one of his hands is curled around her ankle and the other is flicking through channels idly. He can't help the small, surprised laugh that bubbles up out of him. 

This thing between them, whatever it is, is new. Although, in another way, it's a very long time coming. He feels like he's been with her, in some sense or another, for over a year; acknowledging the spark between them only happened a few weeks ago.

It's nice. It's more than nice…it's revelatory; it's like the sun’s come up and he can see things he'd been blind to. 

He's also ecstatic that the physical side of their relationship has translated well off the field. That is to say, he can't keep his hands off her, or hers off of him. They have always been in tune with one another and he's finding that their rhythm together ebbs and flows in different ways, all of it interesting and wonderful and more than he ever thought he’d get to have.

"Why so curious, Baker?" He manages, though a visual of Ginny pressed against the glass pops into his mind, making goosebumps cover his arms. He swallows a couple times, waiting for her answer. 

"Just wondering, I figure anyone who lives in a house like this would at least take the opportunity. I mean what’s the point of transparent walls if you're not gonna take advantage?" She turns her attention from inspecting the large glass panes, back to the TV. He'd stopped changing the channels at her question and its landed on a rerun of some crime drama. 

"Take advantage?" His voice comes out just a little strained, the image of a naked Ginny against his wall has morphed into a full-blown fantasy. He'd bet she'd hiss the first time the cold surface touched her skin; maybe she’d try and twitch away but he'd keep her pinned. 

Eyes still on the TV, she keeps talking, totally at ease, like they are chatting about how they want to spend their weekend.

"Yeah, try and name one advantage to having see-through glass walls besides hot wall sex," she finally looks at him, grinning, dimple winking at him playfully. 

For the life of him, he can't think of one. 

The decision to get the house was primarily impulse. He wanted something so out of touch with what he was used to, something different, something that would bear no resemblance to his old way of life. It was cathartic in certain ways, draining in others.

"But then again, your house is filled with weird stuff, like that wall of blue bottles in the kitchen, what is that?" Her teasing voice is full of mirth, he huffs out a laugh, running his tongue along his teeth. 

She'd asked before, the first time she'd been over. Well, he's using the word "asked" lightly, she more laughed for a good few minutes before calling his house the weirdest bachelor pad she'd ever seen. 

"The designer did it, I told her I liked blue and she must have taken it literally, they don't even have anything in them," he shakes his head at himself. He'd gotten used to them, they don't seem incongruous to him anymore but he could understand the confusion. A wall of decorative bottles isn’t exactly making a big splash in interior design magazines. 

"Not to mention your artwork, if you can call it that," he knows she's talking about the paintings he has of himself. Rather than answer, he holds her ankle tighter and brings his other hand to tickle her foot.

Ginny immediately starts laughing, trying to wriggle away but his grip is solid and he uses the bulk of his arm to pin down her other leg so she's trapped, cackling as he continues his assault. She finally escapes his grip a few moments later when he lets up, loosening his hold on her. 

She's breathless and her hair is all wild from how she'd flailed around trying to stop his tickling fingers. Her chest is heaving just a little, he can see her nipples and the gentle curve of her breasts through her sleep shirt. It's his shirt actually, she’d taken to wearing his clothes to sleep in. Mike loves it, she looks cozy and content and it makes something primal in him, something possessive, delight at the sight.

He knows it's a cliché, but goddamn, clichés are clichés for a reason. 

It's dark out, he wants her against his wall immediately but he knows that it will be so much better in the day light, when he can see everything, witness the sun on her skin, get her to watch the reflection of him fucking her in the glass. He counts his blessings they have nowhere to be tomorrow.

She looks at him suspiciously, his face must betray his excitement. He doesn't know if she was trying to hint at the fact that she wants to have sex against the wall, or if she really was just curious. Either way it's happening. 

Mike just grins, wide and innocent, taking one more long look over her body before turning back to the TV, waiting for her to resettle against him however she likes. She shifts and shuffles over, lifting his arm and curling into his side, her hand sliding over his stomach or grip him possessively. 

He hauls her closer, loving the feel of her warm body against his, all soft curves and strong muscles. He rests his cheek on her head for a few seconds, breathing her in, before planting a kiss on top of her curls and turning back to the TV.

He drags them upstairs a little while later, he can feel her breathing start to even out, and as much as he'd love to carry her upstairs, he caught 7 innings today and he knows it's not going to happen. 

They curl up again as soon as their heads hit the pillow, too sleepy to do anything more than kiss lazily. They whisper to each other with their eyes closed, resting in that safe, timeless place that only exists underneath sheets, in the comfort of darkness with someone you love.

Mike wakes up before Ginny and prepares everything for breakfast but doesn't cook anything just yet. He's learned, both in the brief time they've officially been together and well before, that Ginny loves to watch him cook. 

He remembers her tracking him with her eyes while he'd cooked for her the first time, the heat of her gaze she wasn't doing anything to hide. He'd started sweating and it had nothing to do with the hot stove he was cooking over.

She'd admitted it to him after she'd attacked him one day while he was chopping vegetables for a stir fry he was making. She hadn't said a word, just rounded the island to press herself against him, ran a hand down his arm and pried the knife out his grip. She'd gently pushed him up against the fridge and kissed him breathless before sinking down to her knees and demonstrated, with great care and enthusiasm, just how much she'd liked the sight of him cooking. Ever since, he'd made a deliberate effort to make sure she was always witness to his culinary skills. 

He makes his way to the bedroom quietly, padding over to her side of the bed, because they already have sides of the bed and he's ridiculously pleased about it, to wake her up. 

Mike rubs her shoulder lightly, planting small kisses over her clothed skin.

"Mmm, I'm up, I've been up for a bit," Ginny rolls over as he sits on the bed beside her, her eyes finding his, bright in the morning sunshine. 

"Waiting for breakfast in bed, lazy bones?" He leans down to kiss her good morning, one of her sleep warm hands escapes the blankets to pull at his cheek, keeping their lips connected. 

"Your sheets are criminal, old man. It's like sleeping on a giant cloud that smells like you," she stretches, joints popping as she groans happily, scrunching her face in the cutest way. She heaves herself into a sitting position, kissing him again soundly. He hopes she continues to stay at his place, he wants his bed to become their bed, he wants it to smell like both of them.

"Food will be ready soon, if you wanted to come down I could give you a crash course in scrambled eggs and hash browns," he smiles when an eager look crosses her face, she licks then bites her lip, nodding excitedly. 

Her stomach rumbles, making her push him out of the way so she can get up, not waiting for him before dashing downstairs.

He chuckles as he rises to follow her, he grins when he sees her munching on some cantaloupe he’d cut up. She usually stays out of the kitchen. Cooking is most definitely not her strong suit; his rookie much prefers to observe rather than participate.

Mike makes her come over and watch how he cooks the eggs and seasons the potatoes, she runs her hands along his back, finally resting on his ass, distracting him. He finally shoos her away when she tries to slip her hand down the back of sweat pants. 

She giggles and dances away from the swatting spatula in his hand, going back to other side of the island and snacking on more fruit. He places two steaming plates of food on the table, grabbing them forks and smiling as she pops a few pieces of potatoes into her mouth, too impatient to wait for cutlery.

She digs in quickly, all but inhaling the meal in front of her, she moans appreciatively, praising him and his food. 

Ginny finishes first and proceeds to try and steal the hash browns on his plate. They get into somewhat of a fork war, laughing like children as she tries different tactics to get at his food. 

"You steal my bacon constantly and you've been talking about reducing your carb intake, I'm trying to help you," she reasons, giggling when he just yanks her fork from her hand, takes one more bite of potatoes before sliding his plate over to her. She grins widely at him before devouring the last couple of bites. 

He doesn't mind, she's adorable and he's full anyway. 

It's still relatively early, he knows she'll want to go for a run since it's her day off. She'll probably let her food settle before stretching and heading out. They can run together on treadmills at the gym, but not outside; they always end up racing, pushing each other a little too much to call it friendly competition. 

It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, only a few white fluffy clouds dotting the sky. He's going wait to fuck her up against the glass wall until she gets back from her run, he's already picturing her breathless and shiny with sweat from the run, then from him.

They clean up, chatting about their day, arguing a little over the hitters for tomorrow's game. Mike loves it, _oh_ , does he love it. He loves it in a way he didn't know he could love something. He loves it like a kid on Christmas morning, like he knows what to expect but is still surprised every time. He gets to talk about his favourite thing with his favourite person and her passion and interest just magnify his own.

Ginny kisses him quickly before going upstairs to change. She has clothes at his place already; he'd emptied a drawer for her the day after they'd started dating, maybe a tad over eager but he prefers to think of it as planning ahead. He didn't tell her about the drawer at first, or the section of his closet he'd cleaned out as well. 

After Ginny spent four straight nights at his house, complaining of her lack of clothes and laziness when it came to doing laundry, he'd casually suggested she just leave a few things here. He'd reasoned saying he didn't want to do her laundry either, but the look on her face, open and surprisingly delighted, made him come clean immediately.

She'd attack hugged him, he can remember how her fingers had dug into his skin like she was afraid he'd take it back. He'd wrapped his arms her, holding her just as tight, whispering that he wanted her here, with him, for as long as he could and as much as he could.

When she'd pulled back, her eyes had been a little shiny; she'd sniffed, eyes darting around nervously. He thinks she was overwhelmed and maybe even a little embarrassed at her intense reaction.

He'd just smiled and said, "Don't act like it's news your crazy about me, Baker," which had made her roll her eyes and smack his arm lightly. He didn't mention the spare toothbrush or the extra bottle of body wash he knew she liked that he stashed under the sink cupboard until that night, she'd let a tear slip out that time. 

Mike is just completely, unequivocally, wholeheartedly certain that she's it, that she is who he wants to be with for the rest of his life. He doesn't want to overwhelm her, she's younger, freer, not any more or less damaged than he is, he's just lived longer, seen more.

A small part of him is quietly worried she'll leave him; for someone more like her. A larger part of himself, the more self-assured part, always conjures images of the look on Ginny's face whenever she tells him she loves him. He knows that she doesn't give her time or her heart away lightly and he's fiercely protective of that. 

It's an honour and a privilege to hold Ginny's heart in his hands and he refuses to let anyone or anything, including himself, damage it in any way. She is sacred to him and he’s vowed to be open, honest, and loving with her, because she deserves it.

He's so lost in his thoughts he doesn't hear her come back from her run, he's still sitting at the island, having brought some work down to go over while she was out. He startles when the fridge door opens, seeing a sweaty Ginny grab a bottle of water before turning and lifting her eyebrows in question, jutting her chin to the paperwork strewn across the table, silently asking what he's working on.

As she tips her head back to gulp down the water, he sees a drop of sweat fall from her chin down, down, until it disappears under the tank top she’s wearing. 

"Old man?"

His eyes meet hers. She is looking at him expectantly, mouth damp from the water and chest heaving ever so slightly. 

Quick as anything, he's around the island, yanking her face to his and licking his way into her mouth like a man on a mission. He is, in a kind of way: the mission to make Ginny come against the glass wall of his house. Maybe with his mouth, maybe with his dick, maybe both. He's just going to the let morning see where it takes them, he's sure she won't mind. 

Besides a small surprised noise that escapes her right before he slants his lips over hers, she's right there with him, kissing back with equal passion and ardour. In fact, she's ahead of him, her hands, already impatient, are sliding up his shirt, scratching down his back. She whimpers into his mouth when he does the exact same thing to her. 

He runs kisses down her neck, licking at the sweat and groaning at the taste. Everything about her, _every single thing_ , is addictive. He can't get enough, he doesn't want to. He hopes he's never sated, that his intoxication for her will spring eternal.

He tongues at her skin, following the same path the drop of sweat took. He pulls away only to rip her top off, burying his face in the perfect hollow between her breasts. This spot is home for him, he's cuddle with her countless times like this, laying his head on her chest. He loves that he can hear her heartbeat, feel her warm and alive in his arms.

He takes a deep breath, breathing her in, the sharp smell of sweat, her body wash, soap from her clean clothes, _Ginny_. 

She's tapping on his shoulder, mumbling something. He quickly lets his mouth find her left nipple, licking over it roughly then biting down before finally lifting his head.

The sight that greets him is, well, it's just perfect.

He can't think of another word, his brain slows to a crawl as he takes in her flushed cheeks and chest, small red marks blooming where his beard rubbed against her skin. Her mouth is slightly open, panting heavily. Her lips are lush and kiss-bitten, and her eyes are wide pools of heat, impatience and lust shine through, bright and disarming.

Mike had plans, he knows he did. But right now, looking at her, his only plan is to replace that impatience with satisfaction. It's only when she starts speaking does he remember.

"Bedroom," she whispers, grabbing his hand as she starts to make her way to the stairs that lead to his bed, to _their bed_. He's just going to start calling it their bed because, for all intents and purposes, it's theirs.

He pulls her back to him, swinging her around so she's facing him, and starts to walk them slowly, but purposefully, over to the big, wide, glass panel that is his wall.

"So, were you asking for selfish reasons yesterday?" He asks as his hands practically rip her leggings off her body, she steps out of them awkwardly, toeing off her sneakers when the fabric gets caught. She's just left in her panties and Mike takes advantage, sliding a broad palm down her back to grip her perfect, perfect ass. 

"Asking? Asking about what?" She's repeats, somewhat breathless. Ginny takes his shirt off and runs her hands all over his chest, down his arms, squeezing at the muscles and smiling appreciatively. 

He's sort of proud he already has her so distracted she hasn't put two and two together about what he's doing. He thought he was being pretty obvious.

 _Guess I'll need to be more clear_ , he muses silently.

He stops them for a moment, pulls down her underwear, bringing it up to his nose to inhale the scent of her, just because he wants to. God, she smells amazing, sharp and tangy, human and real. She moans at his actions, knocking the fabric out of his hands and kissing him with such fire he feels consumed by her.

Not to be waylaid again, mouths still attached, he walks them the last few steps and pushes her up against the wall. It's slightly cool to the touch, he can feel it on his bare knee from where he’s shoved a leg between her thighs.

She hisses, surprised at the cold, just like he thought she would, before levelling him a look that makes him think she's finally realized what he's doing. 

"Taking advantage?" She asks with a smirk, the glass warming quickly against her skin.

"Figured I'd at least take the opportunity," parroting her words from the night before right back at her, "I mean what other reason is there to have see-through walls?"

She laughs loudly once before pulling him down for another kiss, yanking his clothes off, only pulling away when necessary.

Her sweaty body slides easily against the glass, and he falls to his knees in front of his rookie, wanting to make this amazing for her. He knows he can't keep this position for long, but it's worth her reactions. She protests just a little, knowing what the hard floor will do but, like he said, he's a man on a mission.

He plants soft, easy kisses down her stomach, licking into her belly button to make her giggle. 

She's already gloriously wet and he spends his time lazily, kissing and licking, not trying to build to anything, just loving her, letting her feel him. She moans loudly, he knows the feeling of his beard between her thighs makes her go insane, she's wonderfully expressive about what she wants in bed and the first time he'd dipped between her thighs, she whined about how good his beard felt, how she wanted to ride his face, how she wanted to make sure she felt it for a long time afterwards.

When he feels she's been sufficiently loved, he heaves himself up, knees creaking just a little. She moans when he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. Before she can kiss him, he spins her around, pressing her front to the glass and rubbing his hardness into the swell of her ass, grunting at how good she feels, how good she always feels.

"Mike! Oh... _mmm_ ," he rocks into her as his fingers reach around to stroke her wetness, rubbing tight circles over her bundle of nerves just to hear her whimper. She whines like she can't decided if she wants to push back against his hips or his hand.

He was right, the light against her skin is beautiful, incandescent, immaculate. He can see parts of their reflection in the glass and it amplifies everything, knowing how out in the open they are, but still hidden. No one is allowed to have this view but him.

He finally pushes into her, quickly spreading her legs to accommodate him, gripping her hips to make her arch. She moans loudly and happily when he bottoms out, he enters her slowly, still worried about his size hurting her. She's been adamant about how much she's not going to break, how much she loves the feeling of him inside of her. 

She's so much tighter like this, he needs to take the time for himself. He thinks sometimes he feels more at home in her skin than he does in his own. The world goes wonderfully quiet and he's at peace.

She tries to plant her hands on the wall, to gain some sort of purchase but they keep sliding all over the place. She has no bearings, can only writhe and let Mike use her body how he wants. Judging by the small whimpers that escape her every time he pushes back into her body, she’s okay with it.

Mike’s knees are already weak and his back isn't all too happy with him in this position, he's close and he needs her to come with him. He spreads her legs a few inches wider, plants his feet starts moving with purpose, she lets out a loud groan at the change in angle.

"Touch yourself for me, Ginny," she slides her hand down to the centre of her body and starts rubbing herself, "can you see yourself in the glass? See how good you look? You look so good, rookie," he keeps mumbling about how beautiful she is, how wonderful she feels, knowing his voice in her ear will make her fall over the edge quicker.

She suddenly tenses around him, a sharp gasp escaping her before she’s groaning uncontrollably, shuddering in his arms. He lets himself go completely, hammering into her body until he follows her right over the edge, falling against her as much as he can. He rests his forehead in the middle of her shoulder blades, kissing her skin languidly.

They slowly make their way up to their bed, leaving their clothes strewn all over the floor, a problem for another time. 

"So, what's the verdict?" He asks somewhat smugly as he watches her crawl onto the bed on shaky limbs.

Ginny lifts her hair off her neck, when she lost her hair tie he's not sure, fanning her face before giving him a wide, cheeky smile. She rises to her knees, meeting him at the end of the bed, wrapping her arms around his shoulder and kissing him like he's going to be sorry he asked the question.

"I think next time I want you against the wall," her voice is deliciously raw, heavy with promise.

He's struck dumb for a second, then he remembers he also has a glass wall in his bedroom.

"Give me twenty minutes, I need to hydrate, and you got yourself a date," he shoves at her shoulders, she falls back onto the bed, naked, giggling, and satisfied.

Mission accomplished.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Comment if you'd like, it's always appreciated. <3


End file.
